Race Traitor
by Edwards-Ebed
Summary: After a successful case, Morgan treats Reid to a night out. On their way back, they're jumped by a local gang.


So here's my first _Criminal Minds_ fic. I've had this idea running around in my head for many years and, only recently, have I decided to flesh it out.

I hope you all enjoy it! =(^ ^)=

**Disclaimer: **Do we still need to put disclaimers for fanfictions? Rather safe than sorry, I suppose. The only thing I own is the plot.

* * *

**Race Traitor**

_A Criminal Minds fic_

Loud exclamations rang out in a bustling Irish pub as people cheered and downed drinks and shots after the U.S team scored against Poland. While most were watching the match on the screens stationed on walls around the bar, others were enjoying the chatter and company of friends, family and partners, tuning out the loud cheers of those focused on the football game on the various screens. When Poland managed to gain the ball, a collective groan followed suit, along with slews against the opposing team.

Sitting at a table towards the front were two members of the Federal Bureau of Investigation's behavioural analysis unit. The younger of the two, Spencer Reid, laughed awkwardly as he circled the ring of his drink, making a low-pitched sound emanate from the glass. Derek Morgan leaned forward on the table, flashing all teeth as he made a comment that caused the other's face to bleed red. When their server approached them with two shot glasses, Morgan laughed as he leaned back in his chair, asking for the cheque as she set the two glasses on the table.

Morgan picked one up and held it across the table to Reid, who took it with a slight hint of apprehension, eyes clearly swimming.

"C'mon, pretty boy. Last drink of the night," Morgan said with a grin on his face. Unlike his co-worker, the alcohol they had consumed had yet to affect him.

Reid stared down at the clear liquid, his logic long since gone. He held the shot glass up, which was quickly met with Morgan clinking his own against it. Meeting Morgan's eyes, Reid laughed and shook his head, bringing the glass to his mouth. In an instant, the liquor was gone between them. While Morgan slammed his down on the table, Reid's face contorted as he set his down gently.

"What did you order?" Reid asked, his voice somewhat slurred from the amount of alcohol in his system.

"It's just tequila," Morgan said, a cocky grin plastered to his face as he watched his co-worker's demeanour. "Don't like it?" He laughed as Reid shook his head. "Such a lightweight." Reid did not respond, outside of a certain look, his eyes trailing to his empty shot glass and glass that had still held a quarter of a cider beer he had yet to finish. Following his gaze, Morgan reached across the table and pushed the beer to him. "One sip left." Reid's eyes stared at it as it was pushed directly to him.

"Morgan…."

"Hey, after the week we've had, it's earned," he said in reference to a multiple homicide the team has been called to earlier that week.

They had been summoned to Charleston, South Carolina to help solve a disturbing case, where five women were brutally beaten and mutilated with their bodies being left to be discovered by tourists and passer-by on the unpopulated areas of King Street. Upon closer inspection, it was apparent the UNSUB had been attempting to mirror the famous English serial killer known as Jack the Ripper, who was notorious for his mutilations of prostitutes throughout Whitechapel. The UNSUB turned out to be a socially awkward man who had been an assistant to the county's coroner – a man who had a severe hatred, yet curiosity about the female anatomy.

The man was found before he was able to commit his sixth murder near an abandoned building on the East End, a shop that had once been a store selling sewing cloths and antique memorabilia.

Grabbing the glass, Reid watched the liquid before bringing it to his lips and drinking the last bit, much to his partner's amusement. He set it back down on the table, hanging his head as he felt as though he was swaying, though he was still. Morgan laughed from across the table.

"Reid, you good?" The young genius nodded his head, though he did not look up. The older man's hand made contact with his knee under the table. "Reid, look at me." Reid glanced to him, his eyes hooded, Morgan seeming somewhat blurry as his surroundings were warped, the corners of his vision turning upwards. "You're gone, aren't you?" Reid kept the same look on him, to which Morgan laughed and shook his head.

Before he could respond, their server had returned with the cheque. Taking his hand from Reid's knee, he thanked the young woman, who could not have been any older than his co-worker, who smiled as she left them to attend to her other tables. He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. Taking out more than enough to cover the tab with tip, he set it in the book with the ticket, closing it and setting on the table. Moving out of his seat, he walked to Reid, who allowed his head to fall on Morgan's hip.

"I'm tired," he muttered barely enough to be heard.

Morgan reached to grab his arm with his left hand and to reach around his shoulders with his right. "Then let's get you home," he said, assisting his intoxicated co-worker to his feet, who was nodding in agreement.

As Reid gathered to his feet, Morgan wrapped his arm around his waist to keep him stable. Leaving the pub, Morgan nodded to the hostess, while Reid gave an awkward wave, nearly falling in the process. Once outside, the cool autumn air was a welcome. Reid released a groan as he nearly collapsed, only supported due to his co-worker's grip.

"We should've parked closer," he said, words flowing into each other as they began manoeuvring down the sidewalk.

Morgan laughed, shifting his hold around Reid's waist and bringing his other hand set on his chest to keep him upright. "My bad, but I didn't plan on carrying my wasted co-worker back to the car."

Reid hummed, watching the ground as his feet stepped in front of each other. "You miscalculated. Five shots of Irish whiskey, one shot of tequila, three beers – my blood alcohol content should have been your forethought." Again, the older man laughed.

Even when he was well-beyond the legal limit, their boy genius did not falter.

As they turned the corner down a less populated street, Reid's body began to lose its momentum and he found himself nearly making contact with the pavement, saved only by Morgan's ever-unrelenting grip. Grabbing Morgan's arm, Reid pulled it away, his face scrunching as he broke away, stumbling towards a narrow alleyway. The moment his hand touched the brick wall of a building, the alcohol in his system made itself apparent and he expelled part of it onto the concrete. As another round came up, Morgan was by him, his hand rubbing his upper back.

"Let it out, let it out," he repeated in a soothing voice, even when Reid groaned as he failed to keep down a third wave. When the young man did nothing but dry-heave, Morgan supported him as he tried to stand, draping Reid's arm around his neck as his co-worker's head fell on his shoulder. "All right, pretty boy, you're crashing with me tonight, no arguing."

He expected a remark as he assisted Reid to a full stand and turned back towards the street, leaving the alleyway. The moment they were back on the main sidewalk and making their way towards the car, a man turned the corner, walking towards them. By the way he walked, Morgan was instantly on edge, his grip tightening around Reid's waist as he held him closer, something the younger man picked up on even in his intoxicated state. They both came to a stop as the man, who appeared the be young and dark-skinned, even with the hood of a red and black sweatshirt pulled up as a means to conceal his appearance, stopped only a few feet away from them.

"What the hell's this guy want?" Morgan muttered, only audible to Reid, who turned his head to look behind them.

"Morgan," he said, words slurred, yet on alert.

"Do you need something?" Morgan called out to the man.

"So not only you a fag, you a race traitor, too," they said to him in response, in clear reference to his partner.

Before Morgan could respond, multiple footsteps came up from behind them, shadows of a at least four others casting out in front of them from the streetlights to their backs.

"Hey, man, if this is your street, I apologize," Morgan said, realizing both he and Reid had walked into the territory of a local gang. He could feel Reid tense, something he himself was consciously attempting to avoid doing.

"Gotta way to show you sorry."

"Morgan!"

One of the people behind them moved and grabbed Reid, pulling him away from Morgan, who was halted by three others as he called out his friend's name.

"Whoa, what's the hurry?" one of the members asked, a large black man with the height and weight to rival a linebacker, placing his hand on Morgan's chest as the profiler tried going after his co-worker. "We're just gonna show your "pretty boy" what it's like to get some real black dick."

The comment made Morgan's heart thump hard in his chest.

Someone in the group had been following them and it had him questioning for how long.

Since they arrived at the bar or while they were there?

The second part of the comment had him lunging at the man, his fist making contact with the larger man's jaw, sending him to the ground. Hearing Reid starting to yell and scream out, adrenaline shot through him, his instincts going into overdrive as three others swarmed him. He managed to get in a few hits, but was quickly overwhelmed as his stomach was kicked, a fist made contact with his temple and an elbow slammed down on the back of his neck. He hit the sidewalk, which the group took full advantage of, kicking his vulnerable side, stomach and back, even slamming their heels onto his head.

The last thing he could recall was Reid screaming and lewd comments being made about his co-worker and best friend.

* * *

Morgan awoke to being moved, his body being hauled up and his face being lightly smacked. It only registered something was wrong when he went to bat the person's hands away and found them held tightly behind him. Trying to open his eyes felt like an impossibility, as though they were weighted down with cement, a headache beginning to make itself known accompanied by a loud ringing. He could hear muffled voices around him, though unable to make anything out. It was not until a hand on his eye forced his eyelid open when the world began to fall back into place.

"Hey, hey," an unfamiliar voice pierced the veil of haze. "You're missing the best part."

He jerked his head away.

Forcing his eyes open, the hooded man from before was crouched in front of him.

There was a moment of confusion before the weight of reality slammed down on him.

His reaction was to lunge at the man, but found himself restrained. His actions caused the man to laugh and pat him on the cheek. "Sit tight, _Morgan_, and enjoy the show." The mocking tone he spoke his name had Morgan momentarily question how his name was known at all. That was until he heard the sounds of slapping and a dry heave from the throat that could not have been mistaken for anyone else other than his partner and friend.

The man moved out of his line of view to sit next to him on the ground, where Morgan found his arms bound behind him and tied to an apparent drain pipe that ran along the wall of the side of the building. The sight in front of him had his heart fall to his bowels and he began fighting against the restraints, which was some form of cloth wound tightly.

Reid was on the ground, his face bloodied and swollen, his shirt ripped and torn, his slacks long-since abandoned. Four dark-skinned men surrounded him, his face contorted as a broken sob escaped when his hair was grabbed and face brought towards an exposed cock. Even with his lower lip quivering, he opened his mouth, only for it to be shoved in, causing him to start choking.

"Stop! Stop!" Morgan shouted, garnering no reaction, other than the guy next to him laughing. "Reid!" he called out for his co-worker. "The fuck's wrong with you?!"

"Oh, calm down," the guy next to him said as he dropped his arm around Morgan's shoulders. "Your faggot-ass friend has been more than willing to take a few dicks in his ass." He ignored Morgan's spasm against his bindings. "Ain't that right, _pretty boy?_" he called to Reid, putting emphasis on the very nickname Morgan had given him throughout the years.

Morgan could only watch as Reid tried to nod with the cock in mouth, his cheeks stained with a mixture of blood and tears. The larger man who Morgan had clocked in the head was fingering Reid's cavity, sliding his four fingers in and out, making a hissing noise with his teeth as he did. It was the last thing he did before he positioned himself against Reid's hole and plunged himself within. The scream the young profiler released was muffled by the intrusion in his mouth, his vocals releasing with each thrust from that point on. After a few more thrusts, Reid was finally able to pull back from the cock in his mouth, and he collapsed onto the scrawny man's lap, sucking in a loud sob.

"I'm sorry – I'm sorry – I'm sorry," he broke out, his face contorting

"You hear that, Marsh?" the scrawny black man looked to the man next to Morgan. "He's _sorry_."

The comment garnered a round of laughter, along with the sound of slapping as the larger man rammed into Reid, his cries overshadowed by the laughter. Once again, Reid's hair was grabbed and his mouth was forced to take the entire length in front of him, this time his head being held in place until the young profiler began choking, his hands began trying to push himself up and off, only for them to be grabbed and forced behind him. Morgan could only watch as one of Reid's hand was used to wrap around another cock as the larger man rammed into him a few more times before he tensed and released a loud grunt. He immediately pulled out, some of the semen following.

"Get your hands off him!" Morgan jerked forward again when the man grabbed both sides of Reid's buttocks to spread him open.

"What all else you think we can fit in this white boy?" he called out as he inserted his thumbs and pulled at both sides.

Reid was finally able to pull his head off the object restricting his air flow, only for the sides of his head to be grabbed and made to move up and down on the man's knob. His head was forced down as the scrawny man's muscles tightened, shooting his load down Reid's throat, groaning as he did. His thin face peered down at the young genius, grabbing his hair and petting his head. "Oh, yeah. Suck it all up," he practically moaned as he held Reid's head in place, making the agent swallow.

"Hey, hey!" the man next to Morgan called out. "Share the wealth, man."

"You wanna go? Lil' bitch's gotta great mouth," the scrawny man said, continuing to thrust until there was nothing else. However, as he pulled himself out, Reid's gag reflex kicked in, as did the alcohol still sitting in his stomach, and he vomited on the man's lap. "Fuck!" they shouted as the reeled back and stood up. The others around him started laughing. "Shut the fuck up! It's not fucking funny!" He brought his leg up and slammed his foot down on Reid's head. "Disgusting faggot!" When he brought down his foot again, Reid barely got out a groan, his throat gurgling on a mixture of vomit and blood.

"You're a real big man hitting someone while they're down!" Morgan yelled at him. The scrawny man stopped just as his foot made contact for the third time and pulled his attention to the seasoned agent. "What's next? You gonna go after old ladies crossing the street or girl scouts selling cookies outside a Walmart?" He could hear Reid coughing and spitting up, but held eye contact with the scrawny and lanky man who was glaring at him. "Maybe you'd just beat your own mama." That comment was what had the man approach him, yet Morgan could not help revel in the fact he had hit a nerve. If he could distract them enough to get the attention on himself—

Everything was cut off when a loud scream from Reid attracted everyone's attention.

Reid was now on his back, his legs held in the air as a long-faced man was shoving what appeared to be a broken metal beam into his anus. Reid tried kicking his legs, tried pulling against it, but the weight of the three men around him kept him grounded.

"STOP! GET OFF!" his breath caught in his throat as he sucked in a loud sob.

"Take it, you fucking whore!" the long-faced man said as he pushed the beam in further – further than it could go.

The depth had Reid suck in a gasp before releasing a broken cry as he tried to kick his legs. "Morgan!" He inhaled another cry. He yelled again, which only resulted in being hit in the face and ribs.

The reflex to protect his co-worker took over once more and Morgan tried pulling at the binds again. However, unlike before, he could feel the knot was what held him begin to loosen. The realization had him fall still, even with the various voices around him. He clamped his eyes shut and turned his head away when the beam was pushed deeper in, getting a garbled yell from Reid, which was only cut short by another hit to his stomach. Trying to focus on what his arms were tied with, Morgan began twisting his wrists, the fabric of the binds sliding against his skin and itself. It began to loosen further.

The sound of scraping and skin on skin invaded his ears and he attempted to tune it out, focused only on freeing himself. As he continued to twist his wrists, moving them in odd angles that caused pain to shoot through his arms, he realized what was being used to hold him. In a sick cruelty, the binds tying him to the pipe were Reid's slacks, something he only realized when he felt a zipper scrape against the inside of his forearm.

After what felt like ages, he felt the fabric loosen enough from his left arm. With a bit more shifting, there was the sound of something falling to the ground. Both he and the man looked at it, which turned out to be Reid's badge. As the man reached for it, Morgan failed to understand why neither of them had been searched for anything of value; then again, territory disputes amongst gangs rarely involved petty theft. The man opened the bifold, confusion washing over him before understanding took hold. "Fed?" he asked, though it was more of a statement.

Taking advantage of their lapse in judgement, Morgan freed his arm and hit the man with a left hook, knocking his head against the brick building and having him crumple to the ground. Getting his other hand free, he staggered to his feet. The hooded man groaned as he rolled onto his side. "Feds!" he shouted. Like trained dogs, the four others immediately stopped their assault and took off from the alleyway, their shoes hitting the pavement fading in various directions.

Just as the hooded man was to his feet, Morgan grabbed him and shoved him against the building. Before Morgan could even get a word in, a broken and garbled sob came from the young profiler. The man made eye contact, hazel eyes staring into dark brown.

"Yo' boy needs you," they said with an odd sense of calmness.

Morgan tightened his grip, every fibre of his being wanting to beat the ever-living-hell out of the man before him; yet, with Reid's muffled and gargled voice behind him, his protectiveness over his co-worker took precedence and he released the man's hoodie. The moment he was freed, he took off. Finding himself by Reid, his chest fell.

Reid's face was caved in, his nose bleeding and broken, eyes swollen, cheeks red, blood filling his mouth. His shirt was covered in blood and dirt. His lower body – Morgan's eyes burned at the mere glance. The beam was still inside him, blood and semen wetting the insides of his thighs.

He set his hand on Reid's forehead, pushing his matted hair from his face. "Reid, Reid," his voice came out panicked. "It's Morgan, kid. You with me?" He cringed when Reid nodded, his verbal response drowned out with a mouthful of blood and saliva. His eyes fell back on the beam protruding from Reid's cavity. Gripping it, he attempted to pull it out, only to be met with a loud scream, followed by a choking cry. He let go, apologising profusely as he stroked Reid's hair, who started muttering "sorry" over-and-over. Morgan could not contain himself and he pulled Reid onto his lap, his own breath catching in his throat as an unwanted sniff left him.

It was a sight he never wanted to witness.

He half-expected his mobile to be absent when he reached into his pocket, surprised when he felt the phone still present.

"Hold on, baby boy. I'm gonna get help."

He dialled 9-1-1 for emergency.

It only rang once before the EMS dispatcher answered.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" a female operator's voice flooded from the receiver.

"My name's Derek Morgan. I'm in an alleyway on Froman Street. My partner's conscious, but barely. He's got internal bleeding in his stomach." He got out the important information and could hear typing on the other end.

"All right, Derek," her voice broke back over the phone. "I've dispatched an ambulance and responding officers to your location." He felt himself breathe and air of relief. "What's your partner's name? Are they coherent?"

"Spencer Reid." Morgan shook Reid, petting his head and lightly tapping his cheek. "Hey, Reid, stay with me." He watched as Reid did a sharp inhale, his eyelids fluttering shut as he made a wheezing sound on an exhale. "Barely," he said in response to the operator, trying to keep his vocals level, though his breath caught in his throat when Reid coughed blood onto his lap. "You're okay, Reid, you're okay." He inhaled as he ran his hands through Reid's knotted hair.

Reid began coughing and rolled his head off Morgan's lap, expelling more liquid onto the ground. It was a mixture of blood, alcohol and semen. All Morgan could do was try to comfort him as best he could as they waited.

* * *

Morgan sat in a chair by a hospital bed, a bandage on the side of his head where one of the hits had apparently broken the skin, a tight wrap around his ribs and chest for what was found to be several cracked and bruised ribs. Reid was reclined on the bed, his nose cast, gauze taped underneath both eyes, a cut on his left cheek having needed stitches, his chest also wrapped after having sustained a broken rib. The beam had required surgery to remove, the sharp edges of the metal having cut into and embedded into his anal cavity. Initially, he had tried refusing when the medical staff had attempted to administer pain medication; but it was Morgan who was able to calm him down enough and get him to accept it.

Before surgery, he had made Morgan promise not to call anyone until afterwards. Though he promised him he would not, he still contacted their unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, knowing fully well he could not leave him in the dark. He did not give him the details, only saying that they "were jumped" and "Reid was in surgery." When Hotch said how he would alert the team and meet them at the hospital, Morgan told him to hold off. It was that reaction that had Hotch know something was amiss, even without his agent vocalising it.

Reid was feigning consciousness when anyone had made an appearance.

Hotch lightly rapped on the door to the room, drawing Morgan's attention shortly after Reid's lids had closed. With another glance to Reid, Morgan set his hand on Reid's head before meeting Hotch in the hallway.

"Are you all right?" Hotch asked, his features barely changing from his typical stern expression. Morgan nodded, his gaze trailing back to Reid. Hotch took in a deep breath, exhaling as he, too, looked at Reid, now asleep. "If we're going to catch the people who did this—"

"I know, Hotch," Morgan cut him off, releasing a sigh.

Hotch gauged his reaction. Despite the team saying they would never profile each other, some signs were difficult to ignore.

"Derek," he said, immediately calling Morgan's attention, the younger man's first name never being utilized by the team, outside of Garcia. "What happened tonight?"

The memories flashed before him: the trip to the bar, he and Reid drinking to excess, the various conversations between them as the alcohol took hold – the comment he made to Reid after he realised his partner was well-beyond the legal limit, doubting even the genius Spencer Reid would remember once the effects wore off. He recalled the boy genius' face flash red at the comment, an awkward, yet willing smile gracing his features. The night had the potential to move in a completely different direction, though he gave up on any of it when Reid began vomiting in the alleyway.

Upon the recollection of being jumped, then coming to, only to see Reid being assaulted, Morgan felt his chest tighten, Reid's screams and cries echoing in his head. They were supposed to go back and crash, with Morgan making fun of Reid's inevitable hangover – perhaps exacerbate it a few times throughout the following day.

He found his brows moving upwards, his eyes glazing over at the memory. Hotch watched him as he shook his head. How could he go about telling him what happened in detail without putting even more pressure on Reid? Without making the young man feel worse than he would already?

He looked to Hotch, his jaw clenched. "They made me watch, Hotch," Even he could see their unit chief reeling back whatever emotion tried to surface, his features becoming taught. "They jumped us after we left the bar. Grabbed Reid – I couldn't – I tried to—" He broke away, his attention falling back on the unconscious man on the bed.

"How many were there?" Hotch asked, still focused on Morgan's reaction.

"Five: one as a decoy, the other four came up from behind." As much as he did not want to be the one to explain what had happened to Reid, it was best to go over the events as soon as possible. It was one of the few times Morgan hated knowing protocol and human behaviour. "Knocked me out, when I came to, Reid was – they had him down and—" He inhaled, shutting his eyes and shaking his head.

The air was tense and filled with several moments of silence as Morgan went over what he had witnessed. The silent moments were when his head was filled with Reid's pleas, his apologies – something even Morgan did not understand. Even Hotch gave him an odd look when he told him how Reid had been apologetic during the assault. The only thing they concluded was something must have occurred prior to Morgan gaining coherency, a blank Reid would have to fill in. By the end of it, Morgan was on the verge of losing what composure he had managed to hold onto. Between the anger he felt towards the men involved and himself, it was only overridden by the concern for his partner, which, in turn, reignited his own self-loathing.

"Would you be able to describe them to a sketch artist?" Morgan nodded. "Morgan, you know none of this was your fault." The way he spoke was with such certainty. "So why are you blaming yourself?"

The question caused a flare of frustration in him. He did not even have to vocalise his self-doubt for Hotch to realise it. Knowing he was being analysed only caused him further frustration. With his emotions at their limit, he finally fell out with, "Hotch, he's my partner. I'm supposed to protect him and I couldn't even do that. When he needed me"—he set his hands on his hips, his brows furrowing and forehead creasing—"I couldn't do anything." He clamped down on his jaw, his attention back on Reid. "He needed me and…all I could do was watch."

He did not know what response to expect from his boss, whether it would be authoritative or sympathetic, but what he was not expecting was for Hotch to say what he said next.

"Well, Reid needs you now, so stop blaming yourself for something you couldn't prevent and be there for him."

When Morgan met his gaze, all he saw was affirmation, something that resonated in him, even without realising it. Even with his own emotions flooding through him, he could see the pain and determination his boss was trying to keep hidden. Reid was an innocent – he was one person they knew had committed no conscious act of ill-will in their life. With the youngest and most innocent among them broken, it was a personal attack on not just Reid, but the team.

And it was something that demanded retribution.

Hotch did not leave the hospital until early morning, only leaving to go into work and explain the situation to the rest of the team after they would arrive for the day. He and Morgan both knew it was best, for the time being, that the team was only told that Morgan and Reid had been attacked, leaving out Reid's assault until he was ready to talk about it – if he was ever ready to talk. Though Morgan had been cleared by the staff, he refused to go home, instead staying with Reid, with extra prompting by Hotch.

By 0700, Morgan was fielding calls from Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, David Rossi and "baby girl" Penelope Garcia. While JJ and Rossi were satisfied with the standard answers of "they were safe", Garcia was more pressing, wanting to know the full details of both his and Reid's conditions. When Morgan told her that it would be explained at a later time, she had rambled on about finding the people who attacked them before falling silent, as though realizing the grip of the situation. She told Morgan she would not rest until "justice was done for [her] babies", before hanging up the phone, causing Morgan to chuckle as he brought the phone from his ear.

The moment was gone as soon as he ended the call, staring down at his phone as his expression dropped. All the team knew was that he and Reid were attacked, not that Reid was sexually assaulted while he was forced to watch. Not that the only thing that saved either one of them was Reid's badge falling out. It did not take a genius to know that had it not have been for that random act, neither he nor Reid would have made it outside of a body bag. The memory alone caused a wave of tremors to course through Morgan's veins, his eyes burned while he gripped his mobile with enough force to crack the screen.

The bed shifting drew his attention.

"There he is," Morgan said, his features growing soft as he forced a smile. "How're you feeling?"

Reid nodded as he returned the sentiment. "I saw Hotch," his voice came out quiet, his eyes barely opening to slits. "Did you tell him?" He did not need Morgan to answer to know the response. He tried to sit up without cringing at the pain that throbbed across his chest and back, but wound up falling back on the bed with a groan.

"He would have found out from the ME's report. Would you rather have had him read it?" Reid stared forward before shaking his head. Inhaling, Morgan leaned forward and set his hand on Reid's thigh. "The rest of the team doesn't know anything outside of we were jumped. And Garcia's organizing a manhunt." He smiled when Reid breathed out a laugh.

"I think she keeps the pitchforks behind her desk," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes on the bandage on his head.

Morgan nodded.

Reid stared blankly at Morgan's chest, where part of the wrappings was visible under the shirt collar. His mind was elsewhere as Morgan watched him, brows upwards and creasing his forehead as his eyes glazed over.

"Reid," he said, pulling the younger man from his thoughts. "I'm sorry."

At the apology, Reid gave him a confused look. "For what?" Reid met his eyes, reading through him. "Morgan, you couldn't have done anything. It was five against two – one if you take me into consideration. Statistically speaking, we shouldn't even be alive, right now – and I'm not even sure how we are! In a gang abduction scenario, both victims are dead!" His eyes were frantic and wild. As he searched for answers in his partner's gaze, his arms subconsciously wrapped around his abdomen. "I should be dead, right now! You should be—" His breath caught in his throat.

Morgan rubbed Reid's leg through the sheet, his other hand holding Reid's forearm.

"You're right. We should be. But we're not. I'm here, _you're _here. And together, we'll make it." He was surprised at how calm his voice came out.

It seemed to register for the young man, whereas he nodded his head as his gaze fell. For a few moments, Morgan watched him, peering into his face as he awaited a reaction. Reid's eyes were darting back-and-forth, his breath still calm before he glanced sideways to his partner.

"Can't call me "pretty boy" for a while." He gave a small smile, causing Morgan to chuckle and rub his arm.

"Reid, your entire face could be wrapped in gauze and you'd still be my pretty boy. So if you think covering up your nose and having a few cuts means you get out of it, you're wrong,_ pretty boy_."

Even with his face splotched with cuts and bruises, the pink rising in Reid's cheeks was apparent. After a quiet moment, the flush beginning to subside from the younger man's face and he brought his attention to the sheets on his lap. Sensing a question burning inside his partner, Morgan knitted his brows.

"Kid, talk to me."

Reid's jaw clenched as he swallowed and became hyper-focused on his hands.

His breath quickened.

"Did you…mean what you said? At the bar?" Reid asked barely above a whisper, his attention on his fingers gripping the thin sheet.

Though Reid was not looking at him, Morgan's brows furrowed upwards and his mouth turned into a sympathetic smile. "You remember that, huh?"

"Eidetic memory, remember?" Reid glanced up to meet Morgan's eyes, who chuckled as he hung his head.

Silence fell into the room like a brick.

While Morgan had been in his right mind, barely even buzzed, he figured Reid to be far too intoxicated to remember what he had said. He should have known Reid would be the one person to recall events even when heavily inebriated.

The comment had built throughout the night, with Morgan playfully flirting with his co-worker all night, no more than usual. When their server had asked the two how their date was going, Reid's entire face flushed as he tried to say they were not dating, while Morgan decided to have some fun at his expense. He told the young woman that "everything was great" and that he and his "partner could use another round."

A few drinks later and Morgan was leaning his forearms on the table, smiling as he listened to Reid explain why carbonated alcoholic beverages like beer affected people faster than drinking hard liquor, despite having a much lower alcohol content. Seeing his face light up, Morgan commented how much he enjoyed watching Reid get excited and worked up. When Reid's face grew red with a shy smile, before he could catch himself, Morgan said, "I'd love to work you up in another way."

The silence was finally broken by Morgan, who looked at Reid as though he was about to lose his partner and best friend.

"Yeah, Reid. I did."

Reid crooked his mouth, his eyes darting up to meet Morgan's. "Can't say I would've mind."

They both stared back at each other.

For a moment, nothing seemed real, as though there had been a haze encompassing the room that was lifting.

And then, they both cracked smiles and started laughing. For the next few seconds, they both laughed, before Reid's became a mixture of laughter and crying, leading to him breaking down. As he covered his eyes with his hands, Morgan stood and embraced him, hugging his shoulders and setting his chin on his head. Reid pressed up against him as his voice caught in his throat and he pressed his face in Morgan's shirt, his hands gripping the fabric. Morgan closed his eyes as he began to rock them back-and-forth, tightening his grip around Reid as the other buried himself into his chest.

* * *

It was not until mid-afternoon when anyone from the BAU was able to breakaway from the office to visit. After a sketch artist had sat with Morgan and gotten a description, it did not take long for the BAU to track down the gang members that attacked two of their members. Prentiss and Rossi were sent to aid police and arrest warrants. Upon locating them, three wound up in custody while two others had been shot and killed upon turning their weapons on officials. Rossi had gone with two officers to arrest the man who had donned the red hoodie, who saw "FBI" across Rossi's vest and laughed, commenting that he "knew letting those fed faggots go was a mistake" before being dragged off in cuffs.

The comment had Rossi rethinking everything they had been told about the attack on his two teammates and partners. The picture began falling into place; however, when he met up with Prentiss after her raid on the long-faced man, which wound up a fatality, she was none the wiser.

After receiving the intel that the others had been either apprehended or otherwise, they alerted Hotch before saying they were going to check in on Reid and Morgan. The only thing he said that concerned them was when their boss told them not to try to delve for answers. They picked up four coffees at a stand outside of the hospital before making their way inside. Once inside the elevator to take them to the second floor where their teammates were being held, the tension finally bubbled over.

"We're not being told the whole story, are we?" Prentiss asked as the doors closed.

Rossi shrugged, his gaze forward. "Who knows? What we do know is that the suspects have been apprehended and Morgan and Reid will be okay." Though he spoke with a certainty, there was a hidden ambiguity at the mention of their co-workers. "If there's more to it, then they'll let us know."

Prentiss agreed just as the doors to the second floor opened.

The floor was bustling with nurses and patients. As the exited the elevator, they overheard an older patient – roughly in their early 80s – complaining to a nurse of how they were well enough to be discharged, all while being told they were still awaiting word from the doctor. Prentiss made a comment that made Rossi smirk. They passed by the Nurse's Station down the hall to the room Reid was assigned.

When they entered, they both stopped short.

Instead of Morgan sleeping in the chair next to the bed, he had his body on the very edge of the bed. Reid was also asleep, his head resting on Morgan's chest. Reid's left arm was draped across his stomach, his fingers laced with the fingers of Morgan's right hand.

At the sight, Prentiss breathed out a laugh as her eyebrows rose behind her bangs.

"Took long enough," she commented quietly.

Walking quietly into the room, she set the two extra coffees on the bedside table. When she turned to leave with Rossi, they heard shuffling. They both turned to see Morgan shifting, inhaling deeply and releasing it as he turned his head. His eyes turned to slits and he saw the other two agents in the room. He took his hand from Reid's and slowly slid off the bed. He held back a grunt as the movement shot a dull pain through his side from his bruised ribs.

"How're you feeling?" Rossi asked with a glance to the bandage around Morgan's head.

The younger man nodded. "I'm good. What's the word?"

"Two fatalities, three arrests," Prentiss said before Rossi could speak.

The information appeared to cause a weight to lift from Morgan's shoulders. The tension coursing through him relaxed and he breathed out a laugh. His eyes trailed to Reid, his brows furrowed upwards before he broke away and drew his attention back to the Rossi and Prentiss. He could sense the question before it even left their lips.

"So what happened last night?" Prentiss asked.

Morgan visibly tensed.

Rossi released an inaudible sigh, though it was apparent he had been wanting to ask, as well. Morgan knew that the standard answer would not alleviate their curiosity and ever-prying gazes, but he could not divulge what had happened to Reid. It was not his to share.

"Took Reid out for a few drinks to get our minds off the Charleston case," he found himself saying. Prentiss nodded, recalling the mutilated bodies, while Rossi's eyes were trained on him, as though trying the read his validity. He wondered if the seasoned profiler even realized what he was doing. "We were walking back to the car and…wrong place, wrong time. They got pissed off at a "white boy" being on their turf, blitzed us from behind, held me back as they…attacked him." The trivialization at Reid's assault forced an unwelcomed tremor coursing through him. "Took off when Reid's badge fell out of his pocket."

Prentiss look was of sympathy. While Rossi's was similar, there was another leaking through, as though he knew more than he was willing to let on. When he and Morgan made eye contact, there was a silent trade of information. Morgan could read it and he found himself daring Rossi to say it. The hidden challenge went unheard and Rossi nodded, much to Morgan's relief.

"JJ and Garcia will be by later to check in with you," Prentiss said. "I think I overheard Garcia calling flower vendors. I hope neither one of you are allergic to peonies." Morgan laughed.

"Or hydrangeas," Rossi interjected.

"Or daisies or carnations. I'd be surprised if she didn't buyout an entire shop."

The thought of Garcia pushing an entire cart of flowers into the room had all three of them laughing. It was a nice break from the cloud that had been looming overhead.

They did not stay much longer afterwards, the call of reports beckoning them back to the office. Shortly after they left, and Morgan had taken advantage of the coffee they brought, a nurse had come in, followed by the white coat of the assigned doctor. The last time he had seen the doctor was in the early hours of the morning, when Reid was out of surgery and was going over the extent of the damage his partner had sustained. She had also been the one to sign Morgan's release papers.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Morgan," she said upon entry. Morgan returned the sentiment. "I have some good news, but we need to wake Mr. Reid up." He sat straight in the chair before lightly shaking Reid's shoulder. The younger man groaned and tried to turn him away, but the doctor's voice breaking through the room pulled his attention. Once he was coherent, the nurse who had come in to deliver his round of preventative medications adjusted the bed so Reid was partially sitting up. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he said as he shifted to a more comfortable sitting position, his face contorting as the movement put pressure on his abdomen.

"That's good to hear." She took the clipboard at the foot of the bed, flipping through the pages. "We do need to discuss some things." Her eyes trailed to Morgan.

Morgan understood, but before he could get up to leave, Reid said, "He can stay – it's fine." He glanced to Morgan, who reached to take his hand.

The doctor nodded her head and brought down the clipboard. She smiled before asking, "Think you're feeling well enough to go home tonight? Get out of this stuffy hospital and sleep in your own bed?"

She chuckled when Reid responded, "Definitely."

"Great. Everything seems stable, so I'm going to send you home with something for the pain and medications to help prevent any STDs you may have contracted. We don't know if you have, yet, but better safe than sorry." Reid became visibly tense at the mention of possible transmitted diseases, but he nodded and swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "I do recommend getting bloodwork done in six weeks to confirm you're clear, but you should be fine, so I wouldn't worry."

Reid clamped down on his jaw. He became increasingly aware of everyone watching him, and was thankful when Morgan drew his gaze away to watch the nurse press the plunger on the syringe into the injection port on his I.V. He knew he was at risk for STDs, but hearing it aloud made it real, and thinking about living with one due to the assault made his chest throb and his eyes burn. His breath caught in his throat when he tried to hold back emotions, but it was rising to the surface faster than he could quell it.

Yet, when he felt Morgan rubbed his thumb over his knuckles, the anxiety coursing through him began to subside.

He took a deep breath as his heartrate slowed down.

"When can I go back to work?"

The question was met with Morgan staring at him in disbelief, the doctor chuckling and the nurse losing it as she was putting the syringe back on the tray. Reid knitted his brows in confusion at their reactions.

"In two weeks," the doctor said through her laugh. "You need to give your body a chance to heal…both of you." She gave a look to Morgan, recalling the older man's reaction when she gave him similar orders before signing his release papers. "Think you can do that?" Her eyes were back on Reid. Reluctantly, he nodded. "I'll get the paperwork started and your prescriptions written out. We'll have you home in time for dinner." With a smile to him, she left the room behind the nurse.

Once Morgan and Reid were alone, Morgan looked to his partner.

"So where do you wanna go for dinner?" he joked, garnering a nervous smile from Reid, along with a light flush rising in his cheeks.

"I think I'll order in for a while." He stared down at his lap in an obvious attempt to avoid Morgan's eyes.

Morgan pursed his lips in thought before nodding. "Dine-in date night? Sounds like a plan. Pizza or Chinese? My place or yours?" His classic flirtatious grin crossed his face as Reid's face grew red. For the next few minutes, Morgan continued to make various comments, distracting Reid from the various thoughts in his head, and instead becoming focused solely on the two of them. Most were shy and awkward reactions, before ultimately telling Morgan to shut up as they began laughing.

* * *

The door to Reid's apartment closed behind Jennifer Jareau and Penelope Garcia. Several flower bouquets now sat by the door and on the coffee table in front of the couch. Reid was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the array of colours before him. Morgan was by the door, holding a bouquet of yellow carnations. He raised his eyebrows and brought it over to where the younger man was and set it down on the coffee table amongst the others. He scoffed at the overabundance of certain colours.

"That's a lot of yellow," he said as he adjusted one of the bouquets.

"People associate emotions with certain colours. Yellow has been shown to make people feel happy and euphoric, while colours like blue are supposed to invoke a sense of peace and overall relaxation," Reid spouted without hesitation.

Morgan raised his brows as he nodded.

Hearing Reid in his typical mindset made him smile. As long as his mind was able to find something to latch onto, Reid could distance himself from the previous night. With people checking in and with Morgan's presence, it was much easier to keep him distracted. It was once Reid was left alone inside his own head that would be the time for concern. It was one of the reasons Morgan refused to leave the young genius by himself, though it would ultimately be inevitable.

He was cleared to go back to work in three days – Reid was not cleared for fourteen. He doubted he would even be able to keep Reid company for the three days of his own leave. Knowing Reid, he would try pushing Morgan to leave before the sun were to rise the following morning. While Garcia had been talking to Reid, JJ was advising Morgan to keep Reid company until absence was absolutely necessary. Ultimately, it would be up to Reid when Morgan would leave the apartment.

Morgan could only charm his way for so long.

He released a breath as he leaned back on the couch and set his hand on Reid's thigh. It was a clear test of boundaries, one he wondered if Reid would pick up on.

"Then call me relaxed," he said as he allowed his head to fall back on the cushion.

Reid laughed. "There's more yellow than blue," he said, seemingly unaffected by the contact.

"Then I'm euphorically relaxed," Morgan said with a smirk. He heard Reid chuckle and it brought a smile to his lips. "So what are we ordering? 'Cause I'm starving."

"Didn't you settle on Chinese?" he asked as he started adjusting the pots by varying colour descension.

Morgan was watching Reid through his hooded eyes. "Is that what you want?" Reid was sorting the various pinks from light to dark.

Morgan watched him up until he started with the few green sets before he gave a verbal response. "I'm up for whatever you want. I mean, if it were up to me, pizza's faster, cheaper and way easier. But if you want Chinese, just tell me."

Reid became tense as he began going through the various hues of blues. His posture changed. His jaw tightened, his brow line became taught – his entire demeanour shifted. The reaction to a simple question had Morgan sit up. His hand did not stray from Reid's thigh, though he did give it a light squeeze as he watched the various flowerpots being moved around the table. With a glance to Reid, he saw his partner's eyes turn red before glazing over.

Before he commented, Reid spoke in a tight voice, "I'm on a restricted diet due to the rectal trauma."

Morgan jerked his head to face him, just in time to see a line of liquid fall from Reid's right eye down his cheek. Sensing Morgan's change in posture, Reid became hyper focused on organizing the flowers by colour, even go so far as to adjust the positions of various stems. Morgan's brows furrowed upwards. Outside of the possible contractions of certain diseases, he had not even fathomed the physical repercussions Reid would have to go through.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan came out with, "How about Chinese? White rice and chicken sounds amazing, right now."

He saw Reid nod, despite the rigidness that had taken over. He patted Reid's thigh and stood from the couch to get his phone from where he had set it on the counter in the kitchen. He had just unlocked his phone when Reid drew his attention.

"You don't have to do this."

"Do what?" he asked as he started looking up various restaurants.

"Stay here." Morgan looked to see Reid watching him, his brows upwards with an odd look of guilt.

The expression shot a jolt to Morgan's chest. His heart pounded and he could feel ice course through him. Sighing, he set his phone back down and walked over the couch, reclaiming his seat next to his partner.

"Yeah, I don't have to stay, but I want to," he said, causing Reid to advert his gaze back to the flowers. "If you want me to leave, I'll will." When he glanced to him, he could see the conflict written across his face. "Do you want me to go?" There was an elongated pause before Reid shook his head and stared down at his lap. Morgan placed his hand on Reid's knee. "Reid, look at me."

When Reid glanced to him, Morgan reached across him to cup his jaw and make him face him. He ran his thumb lightly across the younger man's bottom lip. He leaned in and brushed their lips together. At the initial contact, Reid twitched. It had Morgan rethinking his actions; that was until Reid placed his hand over Morgan's and told him to be careful of the cast on his nose. Morgan only chuckled and pressed their lips together, this time tilting his head at a deeper angle to keep from brushing the cast.

The kiss was light. Even so, it was apparent Morgan had more experience than he did. The contact had Reid's heart flutter in his chest and he wondered why either one of them had waited so long. Morgan pushed Reid's hair behind his ear when he pulled back.

"Still the most gorgeous man I've ever met," he said with a flirtatious grin.

A shy laugh left Reid's throat. "Does that line even work?"

There was a shimmer behind Morgan's eyes. "You tell me." He leaned back in to capture Reid's lips again.

For the next few moments, they sat on the couch, lips connected with Morgan taking over the dominant role. Reid's hands were on Morgan's biceps, his fingers gripping tightly. Minutes later, they broke apart, only for Morgan to wrap his arms around him, pulling him into the tightest embrace their injuries permitted. He kissed the side of Reid's head when Reid returned the hug.

"Won't this make it awkward at work?" Reid's voice was muffled into Morgan's shoulder. He bunched up the back of Morgan's shirt as a tremor ran through him.

Morgan chuckled and rubbed his back, feeling the other man shake. "I hope so. We need a little excitement at the bureau every now and then."

Reid laughed and tightened his grip. He closed his eyes as Morgan's hands continued to run his hands up and down his back. Morgan's presence had always allowed his guard to drop, even when he was unaware that was what was happening. As the sense of safety and security washed over him, he leaned into Morgan, allowing the man to hold him and give him the reprieve he did not even know he needed.

**~End**

* * *

So this is my first _Criminal Minds_ fic. Depending on the feedback I get from this, I may write sequels. (^ ^*)

That being said, please let me know if you enjoyed it!


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